The Third Generation
by xxTenezMoixx
Summary: Voldemort is gone. Britain is busy fixing her gonvernment and way of life, so who is left to round up the leftovers? Harry Potter, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, is directing his team where Aurors won't go. Whatever means necessary.
1. A Fiery Ending

A/N: This story does NOT HAVE A BETA. And NEEDS one. Badly.

**Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, which I don't, I'd be able to afford Microsoft Word, which has a spell checker, instead of using WordPad.

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The black silhouette withdrew from the night as suddenly as if they had materialized from nothing. Immediately, they drew their cloak closer to their slim but muscular body. They walked at a brisk pace down Knockturn Alley, clearly not wanting to be bothered at such a late hour. But those who were still out couldn't have cared less.

The figure maintained their stride until they reached the intersection of Main Street and Sunless Lane, where they leaned against a light post. The candle within was flickering in the chilled wind, and the figure drew their wand and conjured a barrier that would block the wind without suffocating the flame. _Fools_, they thought, _can't even cast a spell to protect the flame from the elements._  
They reached into one of the pockets inside the cloak and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. "Djarum Blacks," the label read. They pulled one out and, making sure the brim of their hat was still pulled down enough to create a shadow that would obscure the light of the cigarette, placed it between their lips. They then drew their wand, and sprayed a small stream of blue sparks to light it. They breathed in deep and let their tongue play with the smoke for a moment before releasing it out into the fog, where within seconds it camouflaged.

Their thoughts turned to those of their mission they were out to complete. They knew the charm now, the one only known to _them_. The Light Side captured the traitor Severus Snape, and milked him for all the information they could. Numbers... So many numbers. How many does Voldemort have in his ranks? How many human? Dementor? How many giants, werewolves, goblins and vampires have joined him? However, not all the desired information was a statistic. Snape's last words were that of answering the question, "What is the incantation for the Dark Mark?" Since then, the Gryffindor trio and their close friends had practiced the spell ceaselessly. Who knew when it would come in handy?

Once half the cigarette was gone, the figure continued their stroll at a slightly less vigorous pace, and turned left down Sunless Lane. Then, their watch-- a Muggle style digital-- beeped four times. _Four AM_, they thought, _I really have to get this done in the next hour, no more fooling around._ The person slowed enough to be able to read the closest building number: six hundred, fifty-three. Thirteen more down the road.

When they arrived at their target, the figure let themselves blend in with the shadows against the door of the building. They leaned against the wall, and allowed themselves to slip down so they were sitting, knees tucked into their chest. They reached into their pocket, the same one with their cigarettes, and withdrew a battered photograph. In a small chickenscratch in the corner, it said "Order of the Phoenix, Third Generation".

This Order consisted of Harry, who was in the middle, as the leader. His two best mates were on his left, holding hands and flaunting engagement rings to the camera, while Ginny was on his right. Throughout the picture, yearmates could be seen, some coupled and happy, others looking lost, forlorn, and determined. Such was the case with Luna, who's father's death had served as a shock to bring her back into the sanity she lost after the death of her mother. No more tales of crumple-horned snorkacks, but rather a cool, calm, and quiet witch with nothing to lose. A dangerous weapon, no longer to be mistaken for a ditzy, eccentric girl.

On the opposite side of the photograph, but in a similar pose and situation, Draco Malfoy loomed. After being taken from Hogwarts by Snape, he had seen his mother, who had been the only person who ever showed him love, put to death by excessive exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. He had then run. He ran, and ran, and ran, until he found himself in Neville's company. Neville dosed Draco with Veritaserum and learned how Draco really had wanted to take Dumbledore up on his offer of protection. Neville brought Harry to Draco, and the two held a screaming match unparalleled before. At the end of the row, Harry and Draco found themselves hugging, somehow united through their mutual suffering.

The person folded away the photograph and replaced it in their pocket. They again drew their wand, and rose. They walked about ten feet from the building and turned about. "For Draco," they began. "For Ginny. For Ron. For all the Weasleys. For Dumbledore. For Sirius." The person began to trace a circle with their wand, making sure to encompass the entire doorway inside the circle.

"For Lily. For James. For Harry. _Incendio! Morsmordre!"_

As Borgin and Burkes screamed fire into the black sky, a green cloud hovered above the once well-known store for trafficking Dark goods. What would people think, when they saw the Dark Mark above it?

Luna Lovegood didn't know, or care, as she drew another cigarette, lit it, put her wand in her pocket with the photograph, and Disapparated.

_  
__-----_A/N: Who noticed that the address was 666 Sunless Lane? 653+13=666. Yeah, sort of a knock off of how JK repeatedly uses certain numbers. Twelve, seven, and thirteen seem to be her favorites. She also has a thing for watches, noses, hands, and socks.

I have NO IDEA where this story is headed, but it's NOT a horcrux hunt story. It's a "after the death of Voldemort, fixing up Britain" story. Writing this chapter, I changed the character four times, from Ginny, to Tonks, to Hermione, before settling on Luna. Wherever this fic goes, it goes. It's got a mind of its own.

Romance, action, treachery, and odd things are about to happen. This is Harry Potter's Universe, after all!

A/N 2: I killed Snape early just because I don't like him. Maybe he'll come back in a flashback, memory, dream, or as a ghost. Or maybe he'll have a portrait appear somewhere.

A/N 3: You can make suggestions; I may take them. I may not. But if I do, rest assured you'll get your credit.


	2. Well, Welcome Home

Luna appeared moments later outside in a rundown street in south London. She nodded to the fourth bush on the right, which housed tonights guard, Neville, masked in a Dissilusenment charm so powerful it was almost as good as Harry's Cloak. She kicked open the rusty gate and marched boldly up the walk before letting herself in. She hung her cloak on the rack next to the others, and threw her wand carelessly into a bin with three others.

Having Ollivander on their side sure helped; after every mission, they could throw away the wand that was used and destroy it. Everyone would keep their real wand, and the crimes would never be traced. Ollivander was known to be slightly senile, and so odd, quirky behavior on his part wouldn't be questioned publically. So what if he wanted to make extra wands? Maybe he had a difficult customer, or was low on stock. No one ever paid too much attention to him; they often found it caused headaches when they tried to fathom the workings of wand lore.

After throwing away the wand, Luna marched into the kitchen. There was still a pot of something, now cold, on the stove with a note beside it.

"Sorry you missed dinner. There's bread in the oven. I couldn't put a warming spell on it because... Well. You know I cook better the Muggle way and those charms don't work on nonmagically prepared food. Draco said he'd wait up, but he's probably asleep on the couch by now. Hermione."

Luna _incendio_'ed the note, and watched it crumple to ash. She then cast a flame underneath the soup, stew, whatever it was, and warmed up the oven. She hated doing things the Muggle way; it just took too damned long. Cooking magically, Hermione almost chopped the counter, stirred the cabinets, and fried the sink. When the food was done, Luna began a hunt for a clean bowl. There wasn't one. A quick _sourgify!_ fixed that up. She served up, and sat at the table to eat and flip over the _Evening Prophet_.

***

It was barely dawn, the sky a dingy sort of pink, when Draco sidled through the bedroom door. Merlin, that couch was a pain! He closed it behind him with a careless nudge with his shoes before he started to undress. He shrugged his shirt off and cast it on the floor, adding to the ever-growing pile of clothes. Now wearing only boxers, he made his way to the full size bed that was already occupied. He then slid under the blankets next to the only person not related to him with hair as blonde as his.

Draco lay on his side and pulled Luna's warm body against his chest. It saddened him that the only time she was "Luna-ish", the way she was in school, was while she slept. Every once in a while he'd hear a garbled "It keeps away the nargles" or "Daddy, I found a Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn!" He missed her eccentricity, but loved her regardless. Besides, now she was serious and easier to talk to. The rest of the Order only saw her business, working personality. Only he was allowed to see that emotion still existed inside. Despite their very different childhoods, their lives resulted in much the same.

Both were very close to the parent of the opposite sex, but for different reasons; Lucius was abusive, Narcissa loving, and Lisa was a workaholic while Leon had nothing but time for his daughter. Both Draco and Luna were ostracized at school; Draco for his father, and Luna for her belief in nonexistent creatures. Ultimately, both were orphans by the time they graduated Hogwarts. Both were from old pureblood families, both were only children. They connected in more ways people ever expected, and in more ways than most could understand. Most of the other Order members just shrugged and let them do what they would.

True to her underlying self, Luna rolled over in her sleep to bury her cheek in Draco's chest and mutter, "But Draco darling, Nargles only come out to play when there's sexual tension around. Must be Ron and Hermione again…" before falling silent again.

Draco allowed himself a rare grin. When all the leftovers, as Harry liked to call the Death Eaters because it reminded him of his horrid aunt's casseroles, were rounded up, Draco would ask Luna to be his wife.

For now, it was enough to just hold her in her sleep.

***

A resounding crash echoed through Grimmauld Place, causing Luna and Draco to fly out of bed and out the door so fast, a spectator wouldn't have even seen them grab their wands. The spectator also wouldn't have had time to have blinked _and_ noticed they were now fully dressed, with their long and similarly colored hair tied back. Draco looked just as his father had when he was his age; although instead of a Dark Mark on his arm, Draco had what appeared to be a burn that could rival some of Charlie Weasley's. When Draco teamed up with the Order, Hermione cast a very weak, very carefully controlled variation of Fiendfyre to forever rid Draco of the torture of the Mark. The way Draco saw it, a shiny scar that never hurt him was preferable to the alternative.

Luna and Draco slid down the stair railing and landed with two soft thuds in the living room, looking around with wands drawn, only to see the rest of the occupants of the house doing the same.

It was Ginny who spoke first.

"So I take it I'm not the only one that heard that, then?" she grinned as she aimed the point of her wand downwards.

Harry shook his head quickly and glared at his girlfriend to silence her. He then gestured with his right hand a half circle spreading from right to left, indicating everyone to fan out into pairs and search the house and grounds.

Luna touched a finger to her heart, and then to Draco's lips before crossing the room to join Ginny. Harry had long preached the negative possibilities of teaming up with their significant others. "Torture, hostage… Guys, if they take the one you love and put them through enough hell, you'll do whatever they want to make it stop. And these guys are Death Eaters; they will kill their hostage regardless. I don't need you guys to go on stupid, suicidal, saving-people-thing rescue missions. That's my job," Harry would say.

Ginny led Luna to the kitchen and dining rooms. They scoured the whole area: under the tables, under the sink and in cabinets, in the pantry, anywhere someone could hide. Then, Ginny felt something—woman's intuition, or a witch's gut feeling—and that something told her to look out the window. She did, and saw something running off the grounds. Without pausing to get Luna's attention, Ginny whisked out her wand and a great, vaporous horse cantered off to other parts of the house to alert the other members to get to the kitchen, and _fast._ She then preceded to "_Accio"_ her broom, a Nimbus 2020, and shot off out the door that opened itself for her.

Luna cursed, and scrambled to catch up. Less than five seconds later, she was quickly approaching Ginny, who was on the ground and viciously dueling in the woods behind the house. Thankfully, the entire property was under the Fidelius Charm.

Ginny's victim wore a mask and flowing robes that Luna knew would make rapid or sharp movements difficult. _He—or she—is obviously someone of money… Probably part of an Old Family,_ she thought as she cast a Shield Charm to cover Ginny from a Stunner.

"Thanks for that, Loony!" Ginny grinned as she shot a Bat-Bogey Hex towards the object of her current amusement. Ah, yes, toying with the Dead Lord's minions was such fun!

Dissimilarly, Luna was all business. "_Diffindo_!_ Flipendo_!_ Levicorpus_!" she cast in quick succession. She was disappointed to see that although the person's robes were impractically flowing, they still managed to dodge each spell.

Ginny ran a hand through her hair; a perfectly normal gesture that did not go unnoticed by Luna. Luna continued casting every spell that came to her mind. "_Immobulus_!_ Incarcerus_! _Avis Oppugno_!" She paused a moment to duck, and then continued, "_Ventus_! _Aqua Eructo_! _Petrificus Totalus_!" Luna berated her opponent to where he only had time to duck, dodge, block, and in the few times Luna spared a half-second to think about her next spell, cast a Shield Charm.

Unbeknownst to Luna and Ginny's opponent, Ginny's hair-messing was a signal: keep him busy, I'll get him from behind. The redhead sneaked around and was crouched in the shadow of a large tree. Ginny tucked her hair behind her ear—another signal to Luna—and Luna jumped up and grabbed a branch overhead and pulled herself up to straddle the branch. Their opponent took advantage of the momentary cease-fire and raised its wand to cast what would surely either be a Dark, painful, or lethal spell. Or all three.

The spell was never cast.

Ginny was much faster and cast an extremely well-targeted "_Diffindo!_" on the intruder's legs, right behind his knees. He fell. Hard.

Luna ran forward and stepped on his hand. "I'll take that," she said emotionlessly as she confiscated the wand. Ginny reached the two as Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Susan trampled into the clearing. The six took in the scene, and instantly Harry was between Ginny and Luna and bound the intruder. Draco cast a Stunner that landed its mark, and Ron levitated the limp body. They all turned out of the clearing and marched quietly back to Grimmauld Place.

_A/N_

I'm taking a lot of freedom here. Obviously, it's AU post-HBP with elements of DH. I know the books describe Luna as dirty blonde, but my mental image has always been Draco-colored hair and green eyes. In my mental image, she had freckles as a kid, but most faded out as she grew up. Harry is not the focus of this story; this story is Luna/Draco. And although both are friends with Harry, they just aren't as close to him as they could be. I still have no freaking clue where this is going. Do you?

I've never written a fight scene before… ever. I don't think I achieved what I wanted so expect in two years or so for me to redo it =P.

Still need a beta.

Also, it would seem that I can't write a chapter over 2,000 words.

Oh, Ginny's broom's name is a "Twenty-Twenty" and not a "two thousand twenty".

The year is 1999, so figure everyone's ages from there.

Think that covers everything… Except…..

I'M STILL POOR. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be, and I'd be able to afford a new mattress. Ow, my back!


	3. Dealing with Dung

"_Rennervate_!" Harry pointed his wand at the limp figure. Instantly, the bound person struggled against his binding ropes, but without a wand, it was fruitless.

The rest of the Order stood around the kitchen. With nine people in there, it was a bit cramped. Most chose to sit on counters, but Harry, Ron, and Draco where in front of their captive at the table. The only two that were missing was Neville and

Draco raised his wand and cast,"_Evanesco_," on their guest's mask. The mask vanished without a trace, leaving behind a scruffy, unshaven face. In fact, it had been so long since this man shaved, his beard had to be about an inch or so long. Scraggly, unwashed ginger hair hung limply and much too long around the man's thin face; it looked as if he had not a decent meal in weeks. With the shoddy mask now removed, a faint odor of stale alcohol and tobacco hung around the man. The bowl-legged man struggled against his bindings once again.

"You can stop that right now," Ron stated flatly.

Harry spoke next. "So, Dung, what exactly are you doing within my property, without my permission? I could call in the Aurors, you know."

Mundungus Fletcher's beady eyes darted back in forth; it was evident he was doing a lot of thinking in not a lot of time. He finally spoke, "Oi, 'Arry, relax a bit there, mate. Y'know I was on'y comin' to visit ye, see if I could be of any 'elp to ye. Fightin' Dark wizards 'n' all."

Mundungus quickly shut up when he was met with two wands in his throat and one in his chest. Apparently, he hadn't though quickly enough.

"Then why were you trying to force yourself in through the backdoor, concealed in a Disillusionment Charm—that broke the instant you touched the door, by the way—and wearing a mask? And why did you attack Luna in the woods?" Draco seethed. Before him was a man who could have hurt his beloved Luna… and he couldn't rip the man apart! Yet.

Ron chimed in, "And if you're so keen on joining us again, why show up at the crack of dawn?"

Harry dug his wand harder into Mundungus's chest. "Start speaking, Dung. I do not forget that you betrayed the Order again and again, and stole from me. I still expect to be reimbursed for that. Technically, Dung, I could go to the Ministry and have you imprisoned for the rest of your miserable life. Or, I could always bypass them, and go straight to Gringotts. The goblins would make you my indentured servant so fast, you would need a Time-Turner to go back and watch what happened so you could figure it out. Of course, you'd be indentured to me until death, as would your children, and their children. Given the amount you stole from me, Dung, I could enslave your family for three generations. If you had kids. Start speaking."

Mundungus stuttered for a moment before trying to answer all the questions he was being attacked with. "Fi'st off, matey, I figured yer guard wouldn't be too thrilled to see me, so I was gonna let meself in through the backdoor and talk to ye meself, 'Arry. An' I dunno if there was someone from the Min'stry prowlin' 'round, so that's wot the mask 'n' charm wos fer. 'Onest, 'Arry, y'know I meant no 'arm. An' as fer yer girlfriend, Malfoy, _she_ attacked _me_ in the woods. As did the li'l redheaded girl. Blimey, is that Ginny Weasley? Blimey, gal, you grew up! Ain't ye pretty…"

Mundungus quickly got back to explaining himself when the girls drew their wands, too. Ginny was halfway through casting the Bat-Bogey hex when Hermione glared at her. Ginny sadly lowered her wand, but just a bit. _That git…_ she thought.

"So, as I was sayin', 'Arry… I showed up 'ere at the crack o' dawn cos I figured you'd be up, an' like I said, I wanted ter speak with ye directly, an' not have ter explain meself to yer guard."

Luna hopped off the counter and strode up to the table. There was nothing but hatred in her eyes and her aura would have scared small children. She turned to Draco and leaned against him. "Oh, Love, won't you let me end his miserable life now? He's lying his ass off. Harry, cast Legilimens and see for yourself."

Without moving his wand from its burrow in Mundungus's chest, Harry closed his eyes and delved into the unsurprisingly shallow mind of Mundungus Fletcher. He sifted through images of booze, tobacco, and naked women easily. _That must be Dung's shoddy attempt at Occlumency_, he thought. Harry probed deeper and found that Mundungus had, in fact, escaped from Azkaban. With no Dementors there, and the Ministry busy proclaiming that all was peaceful and happy, the security was very lax. It hadn't been hard at all for Mundungus to slip out of his cell unnoticed and run upstairs to the room where all personal possessions of the prisoners were kept. Although he wasn't terribly bright, he knew the alphabet, and he had been able to walk down the aisles and find the one marked "F", and from there, it was almost too easy to find the cubby with his belongings. He tossed on his trench, pocketed his wand, and popped his pipe into his mouth. Then, he stole downstairs and after casting "_Bombarda_!" the rickety wooden door splintered, and Mundungus was able to run down the rocky island coast to the shore. It wasn't difficult to join bits of driftwood together with a sticking charm and then propel himself back to England over the waters.

Once back to England, Mundungus had had to lay low. He scrounged around for newspapers in trashcans, and ate at dodgy taverns in exchange for doing the dishes and helping close up, seeing as how he had no access to his meager funds. He didn't stay in any one place for more than two days at most, and he moved as quickly as travelling with no magic and nearly no money would allow. Mostly, he walked. He couldn't afford the Knight Bus, and didn't want to risk running into a past "friend". After two months of travelling under the cloak of darkness and disillusionment charms, he made it to London.

Now Harry saw that Luna was right… Mundungus wasn't the least bit interested in helping out the Light side or the Order; he wanted protection. At the very least, he'd want a place to crash and eat indefinitely. Also, Harry didn't discover this directly from Mundungus's mind (probably because Mundungus hadn't thought that far ahead, Harry believed), but he'd probably end up stealing more from Harry. No, that was definitely unacceptable. And there was no way Harry would hand out a freebie to someone who had betrayed him before. If Mundungus wanted to stay, he'd have to work for it. But Harry wasn't so sure he wanted Mundungus around. Maybe he _should_ let Luna have her fun with the poor excuse of a person.

Harry checked that Mundungus was still secured to the chair and wandless, and asked for everyone to follow him into the adjacent dining room.

When everyone filed in (again, save for Neville and Susan), Hermione cast a Muffling Charm along with an Imperturbable Charm on the door before securely locking it.

"Not taking any chances," she explained before sitting next to Ron, and looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry related back to them everything he had gleaned from Mundungus's mind. "Well, what do you guys think should be done?"

Mistake. Everyone jumped up and started babbling at once.

"Well I think—"

"Kill him, dammit!"

"It's only fair if—"

"_Kill_!"

"What about—"

"Remember that time when—"

"I want his damned blood!"

"SHUT UP!" Harry roared. "Merlin, do I have to treat you like children? We'll go one at a bloody time. Ginny. Your thoughts?"

Ginny leaned back in her chair a moment to gather her thoughts. When she had them, she nodded to herself and sat up straighter. "I think Dung should go straight back to Azkaban, actually. He stole from you and betrayed us all in one way or another. I know the Fat Friar would say to forgive and forget, but how many times have we done that? And how many times has Dung made an effort to clean up his act? The way I see it, there's a fugitive sitting in our kitchen, and we should alert the Aurors."

"Okay, then. Let's just keep going in a circle. Hermione?"

Hermione, like Ginny, sat up a bit straighter now that she had everyone's attention. Always the guru of wisdom, she began to express her opinion via logic. "Mundungus wasn't very valuable to the Order when it was headed by Dumbledore. He was cowardly, and frankly, not all that proficient with a wand. Dumbledore only kept him around because of the connections Mundungus had. His friends—if they could be called that—were untrustworthy, and therefore while sneaking around, they heard things. What espionage is taking place now? Not much. So I'm not exactly sure what purpose Mundungus can serve to us now, and I don't think it fair that we feed and shelter him freely. He's hurt us too many times."

Ron spoke next. "I dunno. I mean, yeah, everyone is making good points. I agree that Dung is pretty useless, but I don't really think its right to just throw him out on his ass with nowhere to go, you know? I just kinda wonder if there isn't some way we can keep him here and make him useful? Harry mighta been on to something with that indentured servant idea, even though it was just a scare tactic. Since Kreacher croaked, we could make Dung work for us. The upper floors of this place _still_ need work. The second and third aren't bad anymore, they're totally inhabitable, and the second is almost done being refurnished, but the fourth and the attic still have infestations of all sorts. I just don't feel right about kicking him out with nowhere to go."

A crease began to appear in Harry's brow; he motioned for Luna to voice her opinion.

"I've never been fond of the man, Harry. Back in my sixth year, I remember he tried to sell me some things with the Black family crest on them. I didn't realize it then, but now I know it all rightfully belonged to you because Sirius left you everything in his will. I'm all for dragging his sorry ass to Gringotts and having the Goblins tally up exactly how much he owes you, and putting him to work one way or another. Actually, Ron, I'm going to extend off your idea. What if, instead of making him work here, he was to work for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? Harry, you are part owner, and so all the free labor Mundungus did would go to your pocket to pay off his debt to you. And, he'd be helping the twins, who I'm sure would be able to use him in getting a hold of non-tradable goods, like those Erumpent horns they've been after for their new line of fireworks."

Luna allowed herself a small smile when she saw Harry relax a bit, and everyone else's expressions grew contemplative. It was a brilliant idea in that it favored the largest amount of people, and didn't harm Mundungus _too_ badly.

Harry nodded to the last speaker, Draco.

"Harry, I'll be frank. I want the bastard dead. I didn't know him way back during school like you guys, but after what I've seen tonight, I can't trust him as far as I can throw him. And although I don't doubt I could knock him on his ass, I don't know if I could actually pick the guy up and chuck him. I don't want him endangering my Luna, or anyone else here. I've come to befriend you all. Yes, Ron, even you. If only you could let your animosity subside a bit more! We're excellent combat partners, but in a relaxed setting, you still have nothing to do with me. I understand I've messed up, but I think I've proved myself to Harry, and that's what matters. But I digress. I do not want to take the chance of this man messing up all that we've worked for. And if he escaped from Azkaban, that means Death Eaters can, too. This brings about a whole new realm of problems for us. I know I won't get my way of having the bastard silenced permanently, so in this case, I think I'll go with what my dear Luna suggests. It benefits the most people. May I suggest, though, that the twins use Fletcher as their test subject?"

An icy glint reflected from Draco's grey eyes as he finished. Cold hate was something he only felt for traitors and Voldemort, and Mundungus Fletcher was the epitome of betrayal.

Harry sighed and rose.

"Thanks, guys. A lot of good ideas were put out there, and some of you even piggybacked off each other. I think that's great. To one extent or another, you all had great ideas. But I think majority seems to agree with some form of Luna's idea. Yes?"

A resounding rumble of affirmatives filled the room, although some seemed a bit more grudging.

Draco asked for everyone's attention.

"Just a quick after thought, everyone. If Fletcher decides he'll take our offer, can we make him seal it with an Unbreakable Vow? I never want this man hurting anyone I care about, ever again. I could use my fortune and influence to have the Chief Warlock himself draw up the wording and make sure there are no loopholes for this snake to escape through."

Harry placed a hand on his friends shoulder. "I think that's a fine idea, Draco. Everyone?"

This time, there was a heartier chorus of affirmations.

"Alright, then, let's go and inform Mr. Fletcher of his new job. Hermione, might I ask you to instead write the twins, and inform them?"

Hermione nodded and dashed away upstairs for a quill, ink, and parchment, while Harry, Ron, Draco, Ginny, and Luna went back to the kitchen.

Luna and Ginny perched themselves on either side of the sink while Ron and Draco chose to stand near them. Only Harry progressed to the table.

"Dung, I'm making you an offer. The alternatives are death, or prison. Now, here's your other option…"

Harry spent a few minutes detailing and explaining what the Order had come up with as fair, and informed him that the Weasley twins were being informed at this moment. Harry explained that if Mundungus agreed, he'd be subjected to taking an Unbreakable Oath.

Mundungus took a moment to mull over his options, and he seemed to reach a conclusion. His doleful, bloodshot eyes looked up to Harry. "I'll take yer Oath. 'S more than I deserve, really. Thank ye, 'Arry. Ye coulda just thrown me away ter the Ministry, or back ter prison, an' ye didn't. Ye can keep me wand 'til ye figure out the wordin' of the Oath, if ye like. Not that ye need me permission fer that."

Ginny took Mundungus's wand and cast several nearly-impossible jinxes on it. Her brother, Bill, had taught her a fair bit of Cursebreaking, and she could successfully cast on magical objects such as brooms and wands. Now, if Mundungus reached for his very own wand, vinewood and Leprechaun hair, ten and a half inches, he'd lose his hand similarly to how Dumbledore's hand had appeared dead and decayed.

A/N:

Like I said… _elements_ of DH… In this case, Luna's house never exploded due to the Erumpent horn. If it had, she wouldn't have felt comfortable mentioning it.

Also, Draco truly feels no animosity towards Ron. It's more of a neutrality, but he'd like to get to know him better. Ron may eventually come around… I'm not sure. Remember, I have no idea where this is going!

Just FYI, Fletcher really is Fletcher. He's not a Death Eater in disguise. How would the Death Eater have gotten through the Fidelius charm?

I've noticed that Draco seems to have replaced Ron as the "sidekick". Well, sorry. I've never much enjoyed writing Ron. I just see him as a half-assed friend that's bailed on Harry in times of trouble before. Sorry, that's just my opinion. I've always loved writing Draco as a good or good-ish guy. 

Dung's wand is of my own invention. I chose vinewood, because vines aren't exactly thick and strong, and Dung is a bit flimsy. Okay, very flimsy. And I've never heard, even in fanfic, of Leprechaun hair being used as a core. But the way I saw it, Leprechauns are tricky bastards, and maybe Dung didn't get his wand from Ollivander. Maybe, his wand is from the Irish maker. Or perhaps cooky old Ollivander is experimenting again!

This is the longest chapter yet! Not including the Author Note, this monster is 2,600 words long (5 and a half pages in point 10 font!). Include the author note, and its closer to 2,900. Yes, this half-page note is 300 words long.

By the way… I don't own Harry Potter. I'm poor as… Mundungus!


	4. Susan's Gain Loses

**A/N:** Okay, I'm taking an idea from a reviewer, **kittikatlova**, to give insight to other couples. The next three chapters, 4-6, will focus primarily on Hermione/Ron.

And I don't own Harry Potter, seeing as how my subscription to the trial version of Word runs out in fifteen days and I'm too poor to buy the real thing!

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_Dear Fred and George,_

_We recently have run into a bit of trouble hear at HQ, and hope you may be of some assistance to us. This sort of thing is right up your Alley._

_We received a visitor, most unwelcome, the other night. It is much too dangerous and cumbersome to keep him here with us, but as he has nowhere else to go and is, in fact, wanted… Luna and a few others had the most ingenious idea of putting the git to work for you. They figured you all would have plenty of uses for him. He has excellent connections with less-than-desirable wizards, and may prove handy in acquiring rare or illegal items for your shop. If all else fails, he'd be a better test subject than yourselves! Or, you could compare yourselves with him. I'd imagine you two would react the same, seeing as how you are identical twins, with identical DNA. But, with a third party at your mercy… results may prove more accurate._

_Please, reply by owl if you are interested._

_The "visitor" in question is none other than Mr. Mundungus Fletcher._

_All the best,_

_Hermione Granger_

Hermione rolled the scroll and sealed it with a powerful sticking charm, before tying it on to Athena's, her owl of 3 years, ankle. She carried the Little Owl to the windowsill and allowed her to fly out into the crisp morning.

Hermione placed her hands on her hips and leaned backwards in a stretch. Oh, she would definitely need some coffee…

***

As she walked down the stairs that no longer creaked, and down an empty hall that no longer housed dead elf heads, she wondered why she was the only one that ever cooked in the house. Ginny was more than capable, as was Ron. No way in hell Molly would allow her children to leave her house without making sure they could properly feed themselves and half the British Navy on a budget. Perhaps it was because they spent their childhood chopping carrots and washing potatoes, but they never even offered to help. Sure, once in a while Ron would offer, but it was always halfhearted, and Hermione was almost sure it was because Ginny had been kicking his knee under the table.

She pushed open the door and walked over to the coffee pot. The only thing Ginny had contributed to the kitchen was charming modern Muggle conveniences all over the house to run off magic. They had a TV (no cable), stereo, DVD player, and lightswitches. But most importantly, there was a coffee maker, electric can opener, electric stove, refrigerator, and a microwave. Ron had been quick to fall in love with the microwave. "You mean, I can seriously have buttery popcorn in two minutes and fifteen seconds… without having to make sure none flies out of the kettle!?"

A few minutes later, Hermione had out 8 mugs… all different. And each had its own unique design for its unique owner.

Hermione's mug had text from _Hogwarts, a History_ encircling it. She had it custom made after she graduated in hope's that Ron or Harry would one day absently read it… Her plan had yet to prove fruitful. Nonetheless, it amused her. Ron's was solid orange; plain, simple, painfully vibrant, and in support of the Cannons. Harry's mug was, of course, a giant lightning bolt with the caption, "Chosen One, me? Nope!" Ginny's mug was a step-by-step diagram for the wand movement to cast the Bat-Bogey Hex, much to everyone's enjoyment. Luna's coffee mug had childlike doodles depicting a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, Nargles, and Wrackspurts. She had had it for years, and although she had finally shed the childish beliefs, it felt to her like a comfort blanket; she just couldn't bring herself to part with it. Draco's mug had been a gift from Harry when he moved into Grimmauld place. The mug had the Dark Mark circled with a slash through it and a caption saying, "Friends Don't Let Friends be Death Eaters!" It was a joke fondly shared between the two. Neville's mug had a T-Chart of pro's and con's for Gillyweed, including: "may kill Harry Potter", "may not work in salt water", and "webbed feet is wicked cool!" Susan's mug had a picture of a black cat, curled into a ball and facing away. It was captioned "Not coming out until Monday's gone." It was a perfect match to her real cat, Midnight, who was a spoiled little thing.

Hermione filled all eight mugs, eight different ways. Everyone took it differently. Merlin bless Harry, who took it black. She then levitated all the mugs behind her as she shuffled into the sitting room.

She allowed herself an unladylike plop onto one of the many oversized arm chairs. These chairs could comfortably fit two adults, or three teenagers. Or, one un-cramped Hagrid. They were that big, and just as comfortable.

Ron, who had been standing next to Harry, talking, immediately sat next to his fiancé. He reached into the floating array of mugs to withdraw the one that belonged to him, and he took a long, appreciative draught.

"Merlin, 'Mione. You make it better than Mum, I swear!" he approved.

Hermione stuck out her tongue at him. "That's only because I give you an inhuman amount of sugar, and your Mum wouldn't. And I know you'll work it off later, so it's okay."

"Yeah, too right, woman," he muttered darkly as he absently rubbed his shoulder. "Make me pull a muscle, honestly."

Hermione smiled to herself, before asking everyone what she had missed while she had been writing to Fred and George. Everyone interrupted each other in their excitement to fill her in as quickly as possible. After a few Silencing Charms cast on the louder ones, Harry was able to calmly and neutrally fill her in. When it came time for him to discuss what Ginny had done to Mundungus's wand, he allowed his girlfriend to explain herself.

"Well, ya see," Ginny began, "Before the start of my seventh year, I spent the summer with Bill. And he was scared for my safety. Being the only girl in a blood-traitor family, I was open to all sorts of dangers: kidnapping, torture, rape… And Bill wanted to make sure I'd be protected. So instead of doing what any other person would do—attach a Portkey somewhere on my body so I could run away to safety, he taught me to protect myself. Bill was about a level forty Curse-Breaker, out of one hundred levels. So, he wasn't a senior, but he was very high ranked given his age. And he unofficially trained me to about a level five in those three months. Normally, that would take about twice as long, but that's with official training and testing and field work and all that.

"So, with Dung's wand, I applied what I knew, and I made a lucky guess with the order of which to draw the runes with my wand. I guessed right. Now, if that snivelly thief touches his own wand, he'll lose his hand. The end result will be very similar, if not identical, to what happened to Dumbledore's hand in my fifth year.

"I hope he just freakin' tries…" Ginny finished bitterly.

Hermione sat back and took a long, appreciative gulp of her coffee. Then, she turned her attention to Neville and Susan. "So, where were you two during all this?"

It was Neville who spoke. "Well, before all this started, I was guarding the front door in the bushes. My shift was gonna be over at dawn. Dung came in through be back, so I never saw or heard him Apparate in. Sorry about that, Harry.

"Anyways, when you guys went after him, I stayed at the house in case someone else showed up, and sent Susan upstairs. I didn't want anything to happen to her… But, when we saw Ginny's Patronus, we ran as fast as we could to her and Luna. Um, that's about it. After Mundungus was brought inside, I went and laid down with Susan."

While Neville had been talking, Ron's hand had been drawing circles on Hermione's knee.

Luna leaned over and whispered in Draco's ear, "Nargles…" and they erupted in quiet giggles.

Hermione paid them no attention and brushed away Ron's hand. "Forgiving me for being forward, Susan, but I've noticed you've been very tired lately, and less and less involved in the Order. May I ask why? Are you not sleeping well? Are you ill? Did you have a change of heart? You know that's okay, you _are_ allowed to leave. This isn't the Death Eaters, you can leave without dying. Remember, Charlie did. He went back to Romania as soon as Voldemort died."

Susan stiffened next to her husband. Trust Hermione, cleverest witch of the age, to notice something that was out of place. She reached blindly for Neville's hand and squeezed tightly. Susan knew it would be best to just come up and out with it… But if it meant leaving the Order? She truly enjoyed being able to be a part of something larger than just herself… It beat the crap out of being some loser secretary to some department head at the Ministry… which was still in shambles, by the way. She'd hate to be stuck there, out of action and on the boring sidelines. All her life Susan had been on the sidelines…

She took a deep breath.

"Hermione… I'm pregnant. I'm only about a month and a half along, and I'm just so tired all the time. I can't imagine how much worse it's going to get. I don't know why the potion failed, but it did. That's why Nev sent me upstairs last night… He didn't want to put me in any danger, or stress me out, or anything. He doesn't think I can handle it. I'm pregnant, not twelve. I can handle reality just fine. But he doesn't seem to think so.

"It's not that I want to leave, I want to be involved as much as I can, in everything I can. But if I lost this baby… It was a freak accident I got pregnant. My mother had four stillborns before me, and after me, she tried again. All resulted in miscarriages and stillborns. I can't bear it if that were to happen to me, but it's a real likelihood."

Susan stopped talking, and Neville reached over to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

Harry leaned forward in his chair. The past twelve hours had been nothing but stress for him. First, an intruder, who turned out to be a once-trusted friend turned thief. Then, one of the members of the Order was pregnant. He didn't want to dehumanize Susan, but she was a fighter, and a damn good one. She was limber and quick, and one of his most adept defensive fighters. And now she was out of commission.

"Okay," Harry said, still looking down. "Susan, truth is, you're a damned good fighter. But I can't risk you, or your baby. Your baby is one of the first of this Voldemort-free generation. If anything goes wrong with your pregnancy, I'm holding myself personally responsible. I'm paying for everything, don't even argue with me. Neville will tell you how pointless it is. You are now more important than you realize. You symbolize the hope of a new beginning… what we're all fighting for."

Silence followed Harry's profound statement, but it was broken when Ginny made a jab at Harry.

"Aren't you always banging on about how you're no speech giver? That was one helluva speech, babe."

Harry gave her a weak smile. "Thanks, Gin."

Ron finally spoke up. "It's pretty obvious Harry's not gonna let you bag up the Leftovers with us, so what are you gonna do? I can't see you exactly laying low on the sidelines."

Susan sighed. "You're right, Ron, I couldn't stand that. I've discussed with Neville a little bit about volunteering at St. Mungo's. I don't have any nursing experience, but I'm almost as good at herbology as Nev is, and they're always looking for more herbologists to help the potionmakers, and to help diagnose. Some witches and wizards don't like being medicated or doped up on potions, and they prefer a natural remedy. I could help out there… I just don't really know who to get in touch with. I don't much care for going back to Hogwarts and teaching, and the Apothecary on Diagon Ally is family owned and won't hire anyone not blood related."

"I don't like the idea of you being exposed to so much pain and suffering," Neville argued.

"Don't look at it that way! I'd be helping to undo the pain the Death Eaters did! If I can't fight directly by taking out a Death Loser one by one, then I want to unravel the damage they've done as best as I can!"

"Susan," Neville began.

"No, don't even. You can't change my mind, Neville. I'll be perfectly safe at a hospital. If anything to happen to me anyways, I'd be _right there_. In a building full of professionals trained for every emergency possible. I'd be safer there than here!"

"What if the remaining Death Eaters raid the place? Don't forget, Bellatrix is still out there! Her loser husband might be six feet under in Azkaban Cemetery, but he isn't half as bad as she was!" he countered fiercely.

"My same argument applies to that, Nev. I'll be in a hospital full of medical professionals. The same medical professionals that improved your mother's condition so much, she can recognize you and gained back the vocabulary of a three year old, which is better than being a vegetable. I would be in the best care wizards can provide. You aren't my father, you are my husband. You would do well to remember that."

Silence reigned in the sitting room for several tense moments. The other members of the Order seemed to not even be there. Tears welled in Susan's eyes, and Neville's face was eerily blank.

He stood.

"Well, if that's the way you feel, you might want to know I don't even want to be a father right now. I can't. I won't. Not until the world is safe. I will not risk happening to me what happened to my parents… to Harry's parents. I will never abandon my child, or put them in a dangerous environment. I don't know why you won't go to Australia, like Hermione sent her parents there. You'd be safe; I wouldn't worry. I'd be able to keep my head in the fight and build a safe world for you and our child."

She stood.

"Neville Franklin Longbottom, I will have you know that just because I don't happen to have a penis does not mean I am not capable of fighting, or protecting someone. Didn't you hear Harry? I'm one of his best on Defense. This isn't the Stone Age. Get your mind in this century, please. You should know me. You should know there's no way I'd run away while I know people are still dying… This war is almost over, but it's more dangerous than ever. The attacks aren't open and widespread. They're sneaky, hidden, and underhanded. It's terrorism. And you, Neville, are a fool for thinking I'd lay low."

"A fool, am I? I married you! Was that foolish, Susan? Was it?" Anger and pain were fighting for dominance in his voice.

"Maybe it was."

Neville put his untouched mug on the coffee table.

"Thank you, Hermione. The coffee was excellent, as always." Hermione could only stare.

Neville then turned to Harry, gave a nod, and walked out the front door of number 12, Grimmauld place, without another word.

It took a minute for everything to settle in, and then the sitting room erupted in chaos.

Hermione all but jumped over the table to sit next to Susan and hold her crying friend. Ron was there milliseconds later, stroking her hair and offering what condolences he could. They were still so young… Susan was only nineteen. Everyone seemed to forget these kids were still just that: only kids.

Ginny and Harry, on the other hand, tore after Neville, but he had already Dissapperated. However, something was left behind on the doorstep.

Harry and Ginny walked sluggishly back inside, to find that the other members were doing all they could to comfort Susan. The group parted when they saw Harry and Ginny approach.

Ginny knelt on the floor next to the other redheaded female.

"Sue, darling, I'm so, so sorry. I'll find that bastard, and when I do, rest assured he'll be a little preoccupied when his bogies transfigure into great, mucus-y bats that try to claw at him. And I may not perform the countercurse until I feel like it. Did you know _finite_ doesn't work? Odd, huh? I reckon it's cause the Bat Bogey Hex is a variant of the Curse of the Bogies. Everyone knows curses don't have countercurses. Funny we call them that, though…"

Susan hiccupped a laugh, and then extended her hand, palm up. Harry dropped a thick, gold band into her hand.

Susan nodded, placed the ring into her pocket, and buried herself into Hermione's shoulder again.

For once in his life, Ron showed a larger emotional range than a teaspoon, along with some tactfulness.

"Everyone… I'd recommend catching some sleep. We'll take care of you, Susan," he reassured her.

Harry approved, and herded everyone upstairs with instructions to try to grab a few hours of sleep.

Not that many would be, as their heads were filled with a combination of anger for Neville, pity and worry for Susan, and stress over Mundungus. It had not, all in all, been a very nice past twelve hours.

Hermione, however, would be put at ease later that evening, when the twins' letter would arrive. She left Susan in Ron's care as she went into the kitchen to prepare a batch of Susan's favorite peanut butter cookies, and to heat some tea. Molly Weasley had been on to something; it really did help someone that was upset.

---

**A/N: **

Do owls have ankles? Haha. Also, I named Hermione's bird Athena before realizing the goddess had a connection with the Little Owl. Talk about a coincidence! Look it up—pretty cool stuff!

Susan and Neville haven't appeared much… have they. Writing Susan is harder than I thought… She's a severely underdeveloped character in Canon, and I've never been fond of writing OC's, which is what she basically is. So, I'm kicking her and Neville out for the time being. They might return… I like taking a lot of freedom in my stories, but I try to keep the characters as Canon as I can. The only thing I ever really tamper around with is timelines and dates. I'm open to suggestions! Anyways, Neville is gone for the next few chapters. He may or may not come back. Susan will stick around for another few chapters, until she calms down and figures out what she's going to do.

Susan's cat, Midnight, is directly adopted from my real-life friend's cat. Midnight is an older, mean thing that lives with my friend's parents. If she decides to lay on your stomach, you are stuck there for hours. No lie. The word "Friday" cannot be said around her, because of a tradition her "papi" started… Every Friday he opens a packet of wet food and alters a quote from the movie "Friday": "It's Friiiiday, you ain't got no job, you ain't got *anything* to do… I'mma get you fat!" He's kept this tradition alive for years, and Midnight has learned that Friday means treat-day!

I bet some of you are confused. I said the dueler in the woods was "well dressed" and appeared to be of an Old Family… and I forgot to make Mundungus say he had cast a Glamour charm on his robes so no one would suspect him. He was on the run, after all. Sorry about that guys! The Glamour faded after a few hours.

This really was supposed to be Hermione/Ron focused, but it ended up being a fifty-fifty between H/R and Susan/Neville. Sorry guys…

Whew! This monster is over 3,000 words, not including the A/N. Including the A/N, it's almost 3,500 words. Jeez, my butt hurts from sitting here.


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